Maybe I'm Amazed
by milenium03
Summary: He hated that he'd lied to Meg. He hated that it bothered him. MegChris
1. Chris

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. The characters and the song.**

This version of the song is written and performed by Paul McCartney.

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Maybe I'm Amazed

baby, i'm amazed at the way you love me all the time  
and maybe i'm afraid of the way i love you

**maybe i'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time  
you hung me on the line  
maybe i'm amazed at the way i really need you**

He revved the engine and the bike hummed and whirred and vibrated. He relished the feeling of familiarity of the tremor of the machine beneath him.

It was certainly better than the uncertainty and doubt he'd been feeling lately.

He stopped at a crosswalk and waited for a couple of pedestrians to cross. It was dark, but he could see the silhouette of urban ruins. Ruins he'd helped to create. Ruins that had been the start of something for him.

Ruins that had wrecked the one good thing in his life. They were ugly and he didn't want to look at them anymore. He was relieved when the crosswalk was clear and he could speed off without a second thought to them.

That wasn't true. He'd always give them a second thought because he'd always have doubts about the decision he was making. The decision he'd made to throw the bomb and to lie about it. And then to finally, finally, when things were getting good and he knew he couldn't lie anymore, tell the truth. The truth was what did it. If he'd only kept his mouth shut none of this would have happened.

He couldn't blame it on telling the truth. If he hadn't done it to begin with, if he had listened to her and not burned down the recruiting office he wouldn't have been in this position in the first place.

He hated that he'd lied to Meg. Now he did, anyway.

He hated that it bothered him.

**baby, i'm a man, maybe i'm a lonely man  
who's in the middle of something  
that he doesn't really understand **

baby, i'm a man  
and maybe you're the only woman who could ever help me  
baby, won't you help me understand?

He concentrated on the roar of his bike, hoping it would drive away the thoughts of Meg. They were painful.

Stuff like that wasn't supposed to hurt a guy like him.

He knew why it hurt, too, he just didn't want to admit it. So he didn't let himself think the word.

It wouldn't go away; the regret he felt, the pain in his chest, the fact that he missed her. None of it would loosen its grip on him. Hadn't for days.

It was why he'd tried to talk to her in school. It was why he'd yelled at her and called her a hypocrite. It was why he'd crashed her brother's wedding and uttered the word, that damned four-letter word he'd been avoiding like the plague.

But the shocked look on her face and the violent reaction of her uncle Pete just reinforced the reasons he'd been avoiding it in the first place.

"I just thought you should know... I love you."

He was so stupid.

**maybe i'm amazed at the way you're with me all the time  
maybe i'm afraid of the way i leave you **

maybe i'm amazed at the way you help me sing my song  
right me when i'm wrong  
maybe i'm amazed at the way i really need you

Flexing his fingers over the handlebars, his hands were suddenly filled with the texture of wool. Powder blue wool. Warmth. And then, silk. Golden strands of silk.

What was happening to him? This was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to hop on his bike and take off with out a second thought to any of it. He wasn't supposed to feel guilty about leaving his mother. He wasn't supposed to worry about how Meg was taking his disappearance, or if she even knew. He certainly wasn't supposed to be remembering the feel of her or what it felt to kiss her.

And suddenly his mind was filled with images of that night. That one perfect night they'd had before he'd gone and screwed up everything.

He needed to get the hell out of Philadelphia and meet some brunette or redhead who could take his mind off Meg Pryor.

He didn't know where he was going, all he knew was that he was going. And he was going fast. Breezing through a red light, hoping he wouldn't get caught by the cops, a thought occurred to him.

He could always go to California.

Thoughts of California brought him full circle to thoughts of Meg. He didn't want to think of her. It hurt too much. And it wasn't supposed to because he wasn't supposed to care.

He'd wanted to go to California for a long time. He'd invited Meg because he liked her – loved her – and wanted her to be with him. But he'd been planning on leaving since before he'd met her. And he wasn't going to let her ruin this for him.

Making a decision, he turned his bike around and headed west. He passed his house, the Pryor house, and barely turned his head. He smiled.

California, here he came.


	2. Meg

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize. The characters and the song.**

This version of the song is written by Paul McCartney and was performed by Jem on the OC.

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Maybe I'm Amazed

maybe i'm amazed at the way you love me all the time  
maybe i'm afraid of the way i love you

maybe i'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time  
**hung me on a line  
maybe i'm amazed at the way i really need you**

She couldn't stop crying. She hated herself for crying, but she couldn't make it stop. She'd never done anything like this before. She'd never been the "bad girl"; she always made the right decisions.

Until him.

After him, she became a completely different person. She was someone her family and friends, even Roxanne, who was the queen of rebelling, didn't know.

But he knew who she was, and that was all that had mattered. He knew who she was and who she had been and he accepted it. And she thought she knew who he was.

She had never been more wrong.

She felt like such a fool for believing him when he told her he had nothing to do with that fire. He'd looked her in the eye and told her he had tried to _stop_ those friends of his. And she, fool that she was, wanted to believe him so much that when he hesitated, she over looked it. When he lied to her face, she believed him and then she defended him. She was so disappointed in herself.

Not only had she believed him, she had trusted him. She had trusted him so much. So much that she'd... That they'd...

Just the thought sent her sobbing again.

He'd been so sweet, so gentle with her. She trusted him completely that night and felt like a completely different person in the morning. She was so glad she hadn't listened to Uncle Pete when he told her to stay away. Chris would never hurt her.

Her world had come crashing down the next morning when he'd told her the truth. She was so hurt, so angry with herself and with him. And he'd used that word, that horrible word Pete had used when trying to explain his reservations.

"I was trying to protect you."

Protect her? Meg laughed bitterly. Protect her. Right.

**maybe i'm a girl, maybe i'm a lonely girl  
who's in the middle of something  
that she doesn't really understand **

maybe i'm a girl  
and maybe you're the only man who could ever help me  
baby, won't you help me understand?

She didn't remember the last time she'd been so angry and hurt by one person in so short a time. It didn't matter that he tried to apologize in school. It didn't matter that he'd shown up at Beth's bachelorette party to talk to her (and in the process called her a hypocrite).

So why did it matter so much when he'd come to the wedding? Despite herself and her anger, when she saw him standing there, leaning against the wall, her breath caught in her throat. But she frowned and stalked over to him, ready to yell at him and make him leave her alone. She had been ill prepared for the conversation that had taken place.

"You're right," he'd said. "You deserve better. I want you to be happy. I just thought you should know..." She knew what was coming. Deep down, she knew what he was going to say. And somewhere, she wanted to hear him say it. To look in his eyes and know that he meant it.

"I love you."

She saw that he did. But Pete had accosted him before she had a chance to react. She knew what he was going to say, but she hadn't been ready for it. Not even a little bit. All she could do was stand there and stare at Chris while Pete yelled at him and he gave her a pleading look before walking away.

She didn't know it would be for good.

And she didn't know that later on, as she talked to Roxanne, she'd realize that regardless of everything that had happened, she loved him too.

**maybe i'm amazed at the way you're with me all the time  
maybe i'm afraid of the way i leave you **

maybe i'm amazed at the way you help me sing my song  
right me when i'm wrong  
maybe i'm amazed at the way i really need you

Her parents would probably never speak to her again. She'd called them once and her father blew up completely. He didn't care why she'd done it, only that she had. And in the process managed to ruin her life. According to him, at least.

So here she was, in a strange place where she knew exactly no one. She never dreamed she'd have the guts leave. She'd been planning on going to college right in Philadelphia, so she could continue to dance on Bandstand (The realization that she would miss that more than she'd miss just about everything else hit her hard but didn't really shock her) and live at home.

Somehow she'd ended up almost three thousand miles away from those plans. She had no where to go, no money, and no idea what she was doing. But she'd spent two months after Chris left moping around in a kind of stupor. She went to the prom (with JJ, because she couldn't bring herself to go without a date) and ended up with Sam at the end of the night. But her heart just wasn't in it. So after school ended, she packed her bags and grabbed what little money she had and left. For California.

She'd stopped to see his mother before she left, to ask if she had any idea where Chris was. She would have gone there instead. She knew she was being stupid and childish and would probably only get her heart broken again, but she had to find him.

His mother had his address.

**maybe i'm a girl, maybe i'm a lonely girl  
who's in the middle of something  
that she doesn't really understand **

maybe i'm a girl  
and maybe you're the only man who could ever help me  
baby, won't you help me understand?

She was terrified. She was completely and utterly terrified. She didn't know what she might find when she went to the address carefully scrawled on a piece of paper she was clutching for dear life. He might be angry and tell her to leave, or he might pull her into his arms. He might not even be there.

But she'd never know until she tried, so she tried to get her bearings. She failed miserably and resigned herself to finding some store or hotel clerk to help her. Once she was finally pointed in the right direction, Meg started to walk.

After forty minutes of wandering around the city and trying not to get lost or kidnapped, she found herself staring at the tiny piece of paper in her hand, glancing up at the number on the door in front of her. They matched. And from all that she could tell, the rest of the address matched too.

She had no idea how long she stood there. She knew it was a long time, but the exact time frame eluded her. She wanted to knock on the door. She needed to knock on the door, to see him, to make sure he was okay. She couldn't bring herself to raise her arm.

It turned out she didn't need to. She looked up, startled and nervous, when the door opened. Chris stopped. All he could do was stare. "Meg?" he said finally. She smiled weakly at him but didn't say anything. "What are you doing here?" He cleared his throat; his voice was getting away from him and she knew the last thing he wanted was to seem out of control.

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly as she realized what to say.

"I just thought you should know... I love you."

He looked stunned, but one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk and he stepped to the side. "You want to come in?" She nodded and walked past him into the apartment.

For the first time in months, Chris let himself smile as he followed her and closed the door behind them.


	3. Homesick

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.

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Homesick

Meg stirred and slowly opened her eyes a crack to look out the window. The bed next to her was empty, but she knew exactly where he'd gone. It was still dark, after all. She crawled out of bed and wrapped the bedspread around herself – it was freezing in the bedroom. A freezing she would have regarded as warm in Philadelphia, but was ice cold for California. She crept toward the window and looked out to the alley between this building and the next.

Sure enough, he was leaning against the next building, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. She smiled. He smoked at the same time every night and in the same place. When she'd shown up at his doorstep and walked into his bare apartment, she'd been able to smell the smoke, but ever since she'd arrived, he'd taken it outside. She hated the smoke. But when he came in and crawled back into bed, careful not to wake her up, the smell of it lingering on him was comforting to her. It meant that things hadn't changed _that_ much.

He reached up with his left hand to take a drag and held the end of the cigarette near a piece of paper he was holding that he'd fished out of his Levi's. He was careful not to burn the piece of paper, but she could see the frown on his face in the moonlight.

But then he smirked and looked up at the window. She smiled and he raised a hand to his forehead in a kind of salute. He'd be back up in a few minutes, she knew.

It was a good thing, too. She was tired and had classes and work the next day. But as she watched him put the paper away in his pocket and take drags off his cigarette, the familiarity of the act struck her. And the pang she felt that she was barely able to identify as homesickness.

That was ridiculous. She couldn't be homesick; she _was_ at home. This place had become her home. She sighed as she padded to the bed and climbed back in. She'd gone all of these months barely thinking about the family and friends she'd left behind when she took off, and one simple act made it all come rushing back.

And she knew Chris was hiding something from her. That piece of paper in his pocket that he'd been staring at so intently.

That piece of paper would change everything, Chris knew. He hated it. He hated what it would mean for him and he hated what it would mean for her. More than anything he worried about her. It was new and strange for him. He'd moved around a lot when he was a kid, from place to place, girl to girl. None had ever stuck the way Meg had. He'd never thought that he, of all people, could care about someone as much as he cared for her. He couldn't believe she put so much trust in him. He'd left her once; how could she be sure he wouldn't do it again?

He'd asked her that before, one night when he was feeling particularly insecure – something he felt often but rarely showed – and she'd shrugged. "I can't be sure. But I trust you," she said softly, standing up and kissing his forehead before walking way. That love, that blind trust, had left him with a warm feeling he'd never felt before.

A feeling he wasn't feeling now.

She trusted him, believed he wouldn't leave her, and that's exactly what he was going to do.

The fact that it was through no fault of his own was little comfort. One way or another, she was going to be heartbroken and alone.

He took a long drag on his cigarette and stomped it out on the ground amidst the cigs from the previous nights before going upstairs to join Meg and try to get some sleep.

She looked the same as she always did when he walked quietly back in the room: on her side asleep, tangled up in the blankets. He smiled at her and tossed his jacket onto a chair, slipping into the bed as carefully as he could so he wouldn't wake her. He kissed the side of her head before rolling over to fall asleep.

"Chris?" she murmured.

He turned to face her. "I didn't mean to wake you. I thought you'd fallen back asleep."

She shook her head. "I hadn't. Chris, I miss the snow."

"You miss your parents."

"I'm sorry. I just want to go home for a week. Maybe a weekend." she said, propping herself up on her elbow. He turned all the way over and watched her. She looked like she felt guilty. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

"Hey, it's ok. I didn't expect you to want to stay here forever." He didn't voice what he was really thinking. _I didn't expect you to want to stay with me forever._ He turned his head away from her.

"Chris." The tone of her voice made him turn back. "I'm not leaving you. I just need to see my mom. My nephew. Will." She paused. "Look, let's just go to sleep and talk about it tomorrow. You look tired." She kissed him and rolled over.

Chris shook his head, but knew there wasn't anything he could say at this point.


	4. Playing With Fire

**Disclaimer: Don't own it, but I certainly wish I could _watch_ it.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I'm not sure how long this'll be, but I hope you enjoy this bit.**

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**Playing With Fire**

Chris chuckled when he walked into the apartment after work and smelled something cooking. Though _cooking_ wasn't quite the word for it; _burning_ was more like it. "Meg, you're not starting a fire here, are you?"

She poked her head out of the kitchen door and grinned at him as he took off his jacket and tossed it on a chair. "I wanted to make you something for dinner. You cook all the time, I just thought I'd try."

"I cook because you can't." His eyes narrowed. "This wouldn't have anything to do with what we talked about last night, would it?"

She blushed and went back into the kitchen to try and salvage what she could of what she'd made for dinner. When he went in it was evident there was nothing left to salvage. They stared at the black piece of...something she'd pulled out of the oven. "Can I ask what it used to be?"

"Steak. Or pork."

He laughed. "What else do we have lying around? I think I'd better take over."

"Good idea. I don't know what we have." Chris shook his head and rummaged around for something else he could cook.

They sat down to dinner not long after, and ate in relative silence. "About last night..." Chris began.

Meg shook her head. "I don't know what was wrong with me.I don't need to see my parents. Maybe one weekend we can go north and I can see some snow."

"Meg, there's something I need to show you." Chris stood and picked up the plates, depositing them in the sink before going over to the end table in the living room and handed her an envelope.

She glanced at him as she took out the piece of paper inside, no doubt the same piece of paper he'd been frowning at the night before. "To Christopher Pierce" she read"apartment 23C, 51st Street, Los Angeles California. You are hereby directed to present yourself for Armed Forces Physical Examination to the Local Board named above..." Meg stopped reading and looked up at Chris. He leaned against the door jamb with his arms folded across his chest, staring at his feet. "This says you have to report on Friday."

"I know."

She didn't know what to say. As she looked down at the draft notice, she felt a bubble of laughter and couldn't stop it from escaping.

"This is funny?"

"This is not funny. I just... I just can't believe you're being drafted. After everything, they draft _you_."

He allowed himself a tiny smile at the irony. "I'm not going," he said a moment later, the smile fading and being replaced by the serious look he'd been wearing before.

Meg shook her head. "You have to. You're not a conscientious objector."

"Meg. After everything," he said, using her ownphrase,"you can't honestly believe I'm going to fight in that war. I won't go."

"Chris..."

"No. I've compromised on things before. I've given you your way before. Not on this. I'm the one who has to go to Vietnam, and I'm the one who could possibly be killed. I'm not going. And I'm not going to fight about this." He turned and strode into the bedroom.

Seconds later, Meg rolled her eyes—he'd put on a Rolling Stones record. She went into the bedroom and sat down carefully on the bed next to him. He flinched when she put a hand on his shoulder.

"Okay," she said quietly, wondering if he'd heard her.

It was evident he had when he turned his head and looked at her in surprise. "What?"

"What are we going to do?"

Chris shook his head. "I don't know." He leaned into her when she pressed her lips to his shoulder. He turned his head and caught her lips with his. He shifted and pulled her closer to him.

After a few minutes, when they were laying on the bed, Chris leaning gently on top of Meg, he pulled away and looked her in the eye. "You know I love you, right?"

She nodded and sat up a little bit, forcing him to roll off her. "I love you too. What's going on"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing," he repeated, rolling over to kiss her again.

She forgot to ask him what was wrong after that.

Usually he didn't have a problem falling asleep after he and Meg had sex. Usually he woke up in the morning to find his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Not tonight. Tonight he lay awake next to her, worried. Not that he'd ever admit that out loud, of course. Even to Meg. He never worried. He never had anything to worry about.

But that goddamned conscription notice weighed so heavily on his mind. He knew Meg was right; all the things she'd said to begin with. He didn't have a legitimate reason to not go. Except that after spending so much time with her and doing so much to stop the war, he couldn't go. Not now.

He couldn't risk Meg. He didn't want her to get in trouble if he was caught dodging the draft, but he couldn't afford to take her with him. Hell, he didn't even know what he was going to do yet.

There was something else behind his reluctance—his downright refusal—to go to war. But he couldn't bring himself to admit, even to himself, that he was afraid. He had never been afraid of anything before. Not like this. This was like playing with fire. A forest fire.

Sighing, he rolled over to try to go to sleep, but knew it would be a long time coming.


	5. Unbalanced

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize.**

Sorry for the long wait; I have been having the worst writer's block in history. I haven't written _anything _except papers for the last three weeks. I was devastated, as I write other things that don't seem to have a category here at But I hope you like this, and I hope it's up to par after so long. There's an author's note at the end, just to clarify some things.

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**Unbalanced**

Meg sat bolt upright.

Chris was gone.

"Oh no. Oh no, oh no," she muttered, tears filling her eyes. She shook her head at herself. "Don't start crying." She took a deep breath and glanced around the room through teary eyes, trying to gain some sense of familiarity. The room was lit up by the hot California sun, and it was Friday.

Oh God, Friday.

She got out of bed and ran into the other room, expecting to see a note on the table, and all Chris's things gone. She was not expecting to see him sitting at the table, reading the newspaper.

"You're here."

He looked up at her and smiled. "Where else would I be?"

She sat down heavily. "Canada?"

"I found a better solution," he said, leaning over to kiss her. He slid a piece of paper across the table. "I'm bringing it to the office in a little bit, but I wanted you to see it."

She glanced at him worriedly before she picked up the paper and read it. "You have a problem with balance?"

"I do now."

"And this will get you out of having to go?"

He nodded and grasped her hands. "Meg, this means we won't have to go on the run. We can stay here and live our lives and keep trying to end this thing. And I won't have to go off and be killed in a war I don't believe in."

"This is illegal, isn't it?"

"It's only illegal if you get caught." The slight smile had disappeared. "I can't go, Meg, I just can't. And if this is how I can make sure that doesn't happen, then it's what I'm going to do."

"I know. I just wish there was an easier way."

He sat back and shrugged. "Me too. Anyway, I've got to go bring this to the office. Wish me luck."

She did.

When Chris got back that evening, Meg was relieved. He told her, grinning, that everything had worked out and he didn't have to go. He'd come home with some groceries and things they didn't usually have, to celebrate, he said. He told her about Dr. Hernandez, the doctor he'd met a couple days before who was against the war and was helping people like him get out of it.

Meg still had reservations about the whole thing, but they both knew it was only because she didn't want Chris to get caught committing fraud. He'd certainly be arrested for that.

Chris hadn't slept much the night before; he'd been up worrying (not surprisingly, so had Meg), so he went to bed, and Meg sat in the kitchen, still a little unsure of what was going on. The ringing phone startled her.

"Hello?"

"Meg?"

"Mom?" Meg sat up. She hadn't talked to her mother in a very long time.

"Oh, I'm so glad it's you. How are you?"

"I'm okay, Mom. Chris and I are okay."

There was a moment of silence and Meg wondered if maybe she should have left Chris out of it. "That's wonderful. Shelly told me he was drafted. That must be terrible for you. I know what your father said about not wanting you to come home, but if you need to, you can. Always."

"Mom, Chris had a checkup and it turns out he has a medical problem that makes him ineligible to go." Meg closed her eyes against the lie, as though if she squeezed them tightly enough, it would all magically get better. "So he's staying. He doesn't have to go war."

"That's good," Helen said. "You both must be relieved." Meg could picture her mother standing in the hall by the phone, clutching it with two hands. She smiled sadly as Helen changed the subject and began to tell Meg about everything that had been happening in Philadelphia. Meg found herself barely listening, preoccupied in her own thoughts, which were somewhere along the lines of "what happens if we get caught?". "Anyway, Meg, this is a long distance call," her mother said, sounding more cheerful than she had at the start of the conversation. "So I better go. We all miss you, even though your father won't admit it."

Meg chuckled, but she choked on the end of it. "I miss you guys too. I'm fine, Mom. I promise."

"I know. I better go. I love you."

"I love you too, Mom." Meg hung up the phone and stared at it. She crept into the bedroom and lay down next to Chris, who spooned up against her and wrapped an arm protectively and possessively around her. She sighed.

"Are you okay?" he muttered softly against the back of her neck.

"I thought you were sleeping."

"Until I heard the phone ring." Meg was silent, lost in thought again. "Meg?"

"It was my mother," she said with a frown. Chris sat up. "Your mother?"

She rolled over onto her back and looked up at him. "It sounds like everybody's doing fine. My uncle's still dating your mom. I guess it's serious."

"Did my mother tell her about..."

Meg nodded. "I told her you had a check up and they found that you can't go."

Chris breathed a sigh of relief and then looked down into Meg's worried eyes. "Everything will be okay. I promise. Nothing will happen."

Meg nodded and they curled up together. She knew he was probably right.

So why didn't she feel any better?

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A/N: I tried to be as historically accurate as I could. It seems that, unless I'm a total dunce and can't even find something on the internet, that there is no record of ways people dodged the draft. And before you say this scenario is ridiculous, I have a friend whose grandfather has a problem with his inner ear and therefore has terrible balance. He got out of having to go to Vietnam because of this. Since I didn't really want to put Chris in a cast and I couldn't find any other feasible reason, I used this one.

Anyway, I hope it seems plausible; I spent FOREVER trying to find medical reasons to get out of going to war during a draft.

I hope this story helps you all get through this uncertain time when we have no idea the fate of AD.

crosses fingers that it will have a fourth season

Thanks to all the reviewers; it's so great that there are people reading this.


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